A crime of passion

Last few days, Indian media has again been engulfed with Neeraj Grover murder case which has heightened peoples' interest ; considering the nature of the crime and all the drama it entailed. With Maria Susairaj being released, many people have questioned if justice has been really served.

What intrigues me in this entire episode is not the concern about justice or the strong reactions from the people who feel Maria, being equally responsible for the crime should be hanged. I have full faith in our judiciary system. I am boggled by the the attention Maria Susairaj is receiving, after her release and the way she has successfully managed to manipulate media.

Looking at her photographs in the newspapers was disturbing. The photographs show her walk past the policemen who look at her admiringly, as if she is some great celebrity! The social networking sites have been set aflame by so much interest in Maria's future that the whole issue of her being involved in heinous crime seems to have diluted. There is a lot of buzz layered with awe, about how she bagged some reality show that would fetch her fortune and now that she is a known "celebrity" her future is set to roar. I feel SICK to the core. 

I almost threw up while watching Maria Susairaj and her lawyer at the press conference, on television. Her lawyer tried to convince media that the victim's body was not cut into 300 pieces, by presenting a photograph as proof. I found that audacious act of convicted criminal which was carefully staged by her lawyer, absolutely VULGAR!

This is what we have become as society? Nothing affects us? With every passing day, learning about new crimes that shame us as human beings; makes me wonder what is happening to our collective intelligence and conscious? Crime has become such an integral part of our life that we don't find it worth paying attention, more than a few tweets and some status uploads on social networking sites! 

In the times when even most gruesome crimes are covered by media in salacious manner to cater the insatiable need of its audience and for its own survival, what can one expect? The Neeraj Grover murder case, I feel, is not only a crime of passion but also a crime of mindless ambition and greed. It doesn't serve to bury our head in sand and ignore the blatant social reality. With every single day, I feel there is great need to contemplate and listen to our conscious that plays great role in determining our character. And by that, I mean, character of not only us as individuals  but also as whole society. Let us pause and reflect where we are headed.

Going berserk over a baby!

Last week, my maids almost disowned me when they realized I didn't know about Mrs.Aishwarya Rai Bachhan's pregnancy! It was when they arrived on their usual time but instead of heading for their respective work, kept on gossiping for long time that made me panic, suspecting some conspiracy against me. I was petrified with the very thought of upsetting any of the three, as all are very essential part for my survival and sanity. 

When I nervously approached them and asked why they had not begun the work, they told me that they were too overjoyed with the news of Mrs. Bachhan's pregnancy and were debating if she would have a baby boy or a girl! I ignored their excitement and asked them to resume the work as I was getting late for my meeting (of course, that earned me "what a bore you are" look from them).

Later, when I was checking my mails and social networking sites, I found the same news, sensationalized all over in media and everybody was regaling Mrs. Bachhan's pregnancy. Some comments on social networking sites, were intelligent, some brilliantly funny and some nastily intrusive and insensitive. What really got to my nerves was the obsession of people with it (witnessing maids, driver, neighbour, school going kids, movie buff friends, lady at the bank counter, member of your portfolio management team at the meeting and even a perfect stranger talking about it can drive you absolutely nuts. Believe me!!!).

The way media is going gung-ho about the news everyday, I feel, by the time Mrs. Bachhan delivers her baby, entire nation would have gained remarkable knowledge in the field of obstetrics! I am on verge of throwing up. Really! What else do you feel when country's collective intelligence is obsessed with this kind of demented rhetoric? 

Being a mother myself, I perfectly understand how beautiful it is to welcome new life. I am glad that we are still sensitive enough to be happy for other people. But then, why we aren't moved by the thousands of orphan babies? While we are busy discussing the right diet for Mrs. Bachhan's second trimester, do we even think about the children dying due to malnutrition? Why am I surprised? For the country that is possessed with Bollywood and cricket, nothing else really matters!

I am happy for the Bachhan family and God bless their bundle of joy. It is time we leave them with some private moments for the new journey that they are entitled to take, as family. It is time we realized, there is life beyond Bollywood and get on with it at the earliest. For God's sake!

 

Shakti and the "SLUT walk"

                                    Goddess Durga, "Shakti"

Recently, two news items caught my attention. One was about, India being ranked "fourth most dangerous country" in the world for women (should we even wonder why we earned this honour?!!) and the other, about women taking "SLUT walks", in different parts of the world, including India! Wow. Should we be really surprised?

Every single day, we read about inhuman acts of sexual perversion, abuse, kidnapping, rape, incest, burning, acid attacks, dowry deaths, and so many gruesome acts of oppression of women, across all categories and class, that such news sound very "routine." We have mastered the art of conveniently ignoring this uncomfortable truth which earns our attention only when some "high profile" person is involved in such crimes. 

Ask any woman, how it feels to be raped through eyes of sick men with deviant minds. Listen to their pain and humiliation of being groped by some pervert at the crowded place. We claim to honour and worship Goddess Shakti and respect her personification in women. We take pride in "Indian culture" and our "age old traditions" and fight for it when it is threatened. Let's do the realty check. 

None of the crimes I mentioned above, really shame us! The truth of our reality is in female infanticides being devoured by sewages from rural as well as "global" metro cities. Our reality is charred bodies in dowry and tandoor deaths. Our reality is, painfully disturbing, rotting stench of female foetuses, and the hanged bodies "honour killings". This is our TRUE "culture" and the manner in which we "honour" women. I know, it is difficult to swallow this truth because we consider ourselves "highly civilized"!

Interestingly, when I googled SLUT walk India (I don't know what impact "SLUT walk" Delhi, will have and if it would die out after enjoying immense attention from media), I found many comments by Indian men trying to get some perverse titillation by posing questions like, "are the women going to dress in mini skirts and bras?", "how foolish it is that Indian women are aping western women by trying to stoop down to such vulgar acts and by participating, they are going to ruin their honour (izzat) and country's image (!!!)" Most of the responses have already deemed the likely participants immoral, slandering their character!

I am NOT a feminist. And I DON'T believe that all men are perverts. As a human being, every time I read about oppression of women, or for that matter any human being, I lament death of basic humanness that connects us all. I bemoan lack of will and vigilance that any civilized society should display and be accountable for. I am deeply saddened to learn that we still lack the basic education in humanity. 

"Love and respect woman. Look to her not only for comfort, but for strength and inspiration and the doubling of your intellectual and moral powers. Blot out from your mind any idea of superiority; you have none.” - Giuseppe Mazzini.

Strokes of controversy...

It was almost a decade back, when I had taken my son to Husain Doshi gufa in Ahmedabad and to my pleasant surprise, saw mr.M.F.Husain there! That was the first time, I had seen him in person. He was sleeping on the floor, without any mattress, dressed in white and looked absolutely serene, almost like a sage. I was touched by his simplicity and was instantly in awe.

I have always admired Husain's vibrant colours and have been fascinated by his passion for art, cinema and life in general. Some of his works are breathtakingly beautiful and the whole experience of witnessing his sheer brilliance on canvas is exhilarating. But sometimes his work also has been absolutely bizarre! 

There was a phase when he painted some Hindu Gods in extremely insensitive and very poor taste and many people were appalled by him stooping to such petty level. I was disheartened witnessing an iconic artist of his stature exercising "creative license" in a manner that was disrespectful towards Hindu religion and clearly indicated a hidden agenda! Despite my disappointment in him, I have always loved him, more as an inspiration for his ageless, vibrant demeanor with eternally youthful and nomadic spirit!   

The news of his demise has deeply saddened me. Suddenly, everybody is ready with eulogies and the media and the art fraternity seems to be engulfed with "guilt" for not understanding the great artist while he was alive! I don't wish to analyze the controversies he created. Now that he is gone for ever, I would prefer remembering him as someone, who was so passionate about his art that he stood by it even when it meant leaving the country he was so very fond of and deeply rooted in. For Husain, his art was beyond boundaries and that is precisely why he never confined to any genre and created his own style.    

There is a lesson to learn from Husain, about life. Watching his movies makes one notice how each frame is a beautiful painting of life! I salute him for his work, his ideals and the way he went about life. It is sad that he had to die in exile. Who is responsible for the exile? Husain himself, the art fraternity, that shun him when it could have offered unconditional support or the people labeled as "fundamentalist"? Let's not get in to that. I would rather remember this globally acclaimed artist as barefoot Baba who was so blissfully immersed with his art that nothing else really mattered!  R.I.P Husainsaab. We are going to miss you immensely and the magic you created with colours, is etched in our hearts, forever. 

 

Pickle jars and the missing ingredients!

At last, the yearly ritual eagerly awaited by family and friends is over. There are no more persistent demands coming my way, asking, "When are you making pickles?" Last few days, the errant appendages have strayed routine of the house as the whole focus shifted on making pickles. There was no choice but to give in and head to the market to pick up the right mangoes, vegetables, spices and other ingredients. When you have huge requests for bottle of pickles, there is no respite even during the days of blazing sun!

As I pack last batch of my signature pickles, covering them with muslin cloth, my neighbor and her daughter look admiring at me for the sheer variety of pickles that lay on table. I am pleased to have completed the rigorous task, without any help, on time. Yet, there is some strange feeling that I have missed out some crucial ingredients in this process. I once again check the color, taste and texture of all the pickles - sun dried, sweet, sour and spicy but they seem to be perfect, just like they have always been. The pickles look so appealing and the aroma so inviting that I fail to comprehend what's really missing! My neighbor asks me, " how did you learn making so many varieties of pickles?!!!" And I answer just the way my granny had, when I asked her the same question as a child, "you don't need some special skills to make pickles, you need to have nose for it".

That conversation takes me back to the childhood days and I instantly know what exactly is missing! The pickles have come out just the way my mother, aunts, and granny used to make. What's missing is the sense of community that used to prevail so prominently while making pickles in my maternal house. There were so many tales woven around gatherings at such occasions and a sense of belonging to a large extended family is what is missing. Summer was when the great task of pickle making was performed and executed with utmost precision and expertise of granny and my mother!

The children (invariable always more than a dozen of cousins) used to be so excited by the anticipation of discoveries of completely different world and innocent play! The rituals of pickle making were so fascinating that we used to be glued watching aunts cut, prepare and dry mangoes in the sun. The fragrance of spices and the riot of color and texture used to always grab our attention! The fun in darting to the terrace and sneaking tempting bits of raw mangoes to feast on, was our favourite game! In the afternoons, when the sun reached its merciless peak, there were endless sessions of storytelling by granny. These memories of beautiful childhood are still so fresh in my mind!

Time has changed and so has my world. Granny and some legendary cooks in the family are no more around to share culinary knowledge passed down to them through generations. I reach out for a handwritten family recipe book that has documented some secret recipes and general tips useful for kitchen. I hold the book close to my heart and close my moist eyes. I know, my granny would have been very happy and proud to see me carry forward her legacy. I look at the packed pickle jars and feel blessed to have a huge extended family of friends to share little joys of life with.